Our Universe is finite both in space and time
As is the English language regarding what will rhyme
Faced with such a boundary
Bound with such a curse
Some write skillful poetry
Others write blank verse
When the muse is on me
Striving for perfection
Sometimes it all unravels
Then comes the frustration ... frustration ... the fog is descending ... black ... choking ... I lose my way in the labyrinth of my own sad devising ... casting out breadcrumbs ... dispensing a guiding thread - it burns in my wake and guides me not to safety but calls the Minotaur to me ... I hear him approaching ... no ... no
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